Pyro's Purse
by BeautifulDoom
Summary: From my SFC verse. A brief glimpse into BLU Pyro's childhood.
1. The Purse

**AN: This was an idea that I had kicked around and decided on using. Pyro is such a cutie, and there needs to be fanart of this story.**

BLU Medic yawned and trudged his way past his locker, eager to grab a shower before dinner. Of course, Scout just had to leave one of his cleats out on the floor, causing Medic to trip.

Medic grunted and grabbed the nearest locker. A soft thud drew his attention as something hit the floor under him.

It was a small blue purse with a flower on the side.

Medic furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he bent down to pick it up. It looked old and slightly worn with lines of stiches here and there. The zipper had been replaced as well and was half open. Medic looked at the locker he had jarred and saw that it was Pyro's locker.

Why did Pyro have a purse in his locker?

Beyond curious now, Medic reached inside and pulled out a piece of paper.

"MPPHMS FGGHH!"

Medic flinched and looked back as BLU Pyro carelessly dropped his flamethrower and ran to snatch the purse away.

"I meant no harm," Medic said, hiding the paper behind his back. "I accidently tripped and knocked it to zhe ground."

Pyro unleashed a string of incoherent mumbles as he clutched the purse to his chest. He almost seemed to be shaking. Beneath his mask, Pyro closed his eyes as a memory washed over him.

~O~

_Pyro had just turned five years old, and he was holding his new friend. It was a stuffed animal that his mother had named the Balloonicorn. Pyro could tell how hard she had worked on it, and he clutched it to his chest._

_His mother held his other hand as she led him down the street. The folds of her pretty pink dress skimmed the ground, and her green shawl fluttered in the wind. _

_Pyro loved his mother's dresses. They always looked so pretty._

_Pyro's mother hummed and smiled at her son, swinging their arms in a wide arc._

"_I just need to pick up some more fabric," she said. "Then we'll go home and make some stuffed animals, ok?" Pyro nodded happily._

_Then he froze as something caught his eye._

_It was a black mechanical horse that stood proudly in front of the general store. It was sleek and shiny and looked so real. With a cry of joy, Pyro let go of his mother's hand and ran off to the horse. The horse was a lot bigger up close. Too big for the small Pyro. Pyro shifted his Balloonicorn from hand to hand in his efforts to mount the majestic steed. _

"_Ah! Ah!" he cried, patting the horse on the side. He heard a chuckle behind him as his mother joined him._

"_Did you want to ride the horsey?" she asked. Pyro excitedly nodded his head. His mother lifted him up and onto the saddle. Pyro clutched the plastic reigns and giggled._

"_One second," his mother reached into her bag and pulled out a small blue coin purse that had a flower painted on the side. She opened it and fished out a few coins before feeding them into the machine._

_With a sudden lurch, the horse began to move. _

"_Huddah!" Pyro said with a grin. "Huddah hoo!"_

_His mother chuckled again. Soon the horse slowed to a stop and Pyro's mother fished out money two more times to feed the machine. Finally, she set Pyro back onto the ground and brushed the dust from his clothes. Pyro paid no attention as he stroked the side of the mechanical horse._

"_Horse," Pyro's mother said slowly, "that's a horse."_

"_Hoho," said Pyro. He smacked his hand against the horse. "Hoho."_

_Pyro's mother hid her sorrow behind a smile. _

"_Yes," she said. "Now let's get the fabric. What color do you want?" Pyro began to babble as his mother opened the store door for him._

_~O~_

Pyro breathed heavily as he was brought back to the present. Medic looked at him curiously, but Pyro just mumbled something and walked away. After making sure that Pyro wouldn't be coming back, Medic unfolded the paper.

To his surprise, it was a page that had been ripped from a medical text. Medic read it with interest and saw that it was about a disorder known as Expressive Aphasia. A scrawl at the bottom read 'always wear mask.'

Medic's eyes went wide as he put the pieces together. He looked up at where Pyro had disappeared and hmmm'd.

"So zhis is vhy," he said softly. "How unexpected, but…zhis still does not explain zhe purse."

Medic stuck the page in the very back of Pyro's locker. Then he headed out for a hot shower.


	2. The Scarf

"Josephine, could I have a word with you?" Josephine looked up from her book and saw one of the other mothers standing nervously by the park bench.

"Not at all," Josephine smiled and set her book aside. "Please sit down."

The other mother, whose name was Patricia, sat down next to the brightly dressed Josephine.

"Um, well…" Patricia faltered. "I was hoping to talk to you about Michael."

Josephine looked over at her son Michael. He had joined Patricia's daughter Sarah in her tea party under the oak tree. Michael was wearing a fancy blue hat and a pink scarf that Sarah had asked him to wear while he happily clinked cups with her.

"He gets along so well with Sarah," Josephine said happily. Patricia grimaced as she looked over at Michael and Sarah.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," she said. Josephine slowly nodded in confusion. What could be the problem?

"Have you noticed…" Patricia twisted her face as she tried to be tactful, "that Michael has been acting…well, like a girl?"

Josephine tilted her head. In truth, yes Michael acted like a girl sometimes, but she had never seen a problem with that. She never tried to force a gender role on him, preferring to let him do as he pleased. If he wanted to do feminine things like helping her mend her dresses or make stuffed animals or play tea party, then who was she to say 'no'?

"Well," Josephine said. "I suppose that he has been, but I don't see any harm in it. It makes him happy, he enjoys it, and it's not hurting anything."

Patricia didn't seem happy with that answer. She took a deep breath and almost seemed to look at Josephine as if she were dense.

"It's just that…" she said, "aren't you worried?"

"About what?"

"About your son becoming…one of _them_." Patricia answered.

Now Josephine was getting mad. She had an idea as to who Patricia was referring to, but decided to let the woman explain.

At Josephine's raised eyebrow, Patricia explained.

"You know…a homosexual."

It took all of Josephine's self-restraint to not reply with a scathing remark. She had seen the looks the other mothers gave her child and had seen them whispering to each other. She supposed she should have seen this coming.

"The thing he's still young enough to put a stop to it," Patricia continued, interpreting Josephine's silence for fear. "I'm sure if you made him do things that boys do we could stop it. Maybe if you signed him up for some sports and stopped letting him help you with your stuffed animals…"

Michael didn't like sports. His inability to speak made it very difficult to communicate and as such he couldn't play sports very well. Making stuffed animals was the one thing that Josephine and Michael had all to themselves. It was their bonding time.

"And even if you didn't catch it in time, you could get him cured. I heard that there are hospitals and churches who can cure it," Patricia's voice broke into her thoughts.

"I appreciate your concern," Josephine forced a smile, "but there's nothing wrong with Michael and there's nothing wrong with letting him do things that he enjoys."

Patricia sighed and shook her head sadly.

"Look," she said. "I know that things have been hard ever since David left you two…"

Oh, she did NOT just say that.

"But maybe if you got another man in your life then he could help Michael do more boy things. Think about it, do you really want a homosexual for a son?"

Josephine could be civil, but Patricia was pushing it.

"I really don't care," she said angrily. "If my son wants to make stuffed animals then he can. If he wants to put pink sheets on his bed then he can. If he grows up to be a homosexual then I will still love him. And if people like you threaten him and give him a hard time then you can bet that I will defend him."

"I know you love him, but you can't let it get like that. If you love your son you won't let him end up as a homosexual. You know what the bible says-"

"I do," Josephine interrupted Patricia. "And I would rather follow His teachings of love and peace as opposed to finding excuses to hate things."

"Really now," Patricia sounded stern. "It's bad enough that your son is mute, it's bad enough that your husband left you, but now you're just gonna let your son become some filthy homosexual? Do you know what the other mothers think of you? They think you're stupid. They think you're cursed. They think you are a horrible mother and that Michael should be taken from you. And I didn't want to agree, but now I have to because you're so damn stupid and stubborn to raise Michael how he should be raised."

"Don't you ever tell me how to raise my son!" Josephine snarled. "Michael is an angel and there is nothing wrong with him or with how I raise him. David's leaving was his own damn loss. He was just too full of himself to see what a special boy Michael is."

"Well, if that's how you're going to raise him then keep him away from my children. I will not have him influencing them with his unnatural ways," Patricia snapped. She marched over to Sarah and grabbed her by the hand. Sarah cried and pleaded with her mother to let her play just a little longer, but Patricia scooped up the fake tea set.

Josephine dropped her book and ran over when Patricia ripped the hat and scarf off of Michael. Michael started to cry too as the rough fabric squeezed to hard and gave him friction burn. Josephine took her crying child into her arms and glared at Patricia as she drug Sarah away.

That night Josephine tucked Michael into bed and kissed his brow as he slept.

"Don't ever think there's something wrong with you," she whispered. "There isn't. And I will always love you no matter what."


End file.
